Death in the Mountains - IC

It is mid-summer in the year 2516 and in the main it has been a hot and humid one. Karl Franz has sat on the throne of the Empire the greatest of human nations for 14 years. It has been 86 years since El Cadavo, adventurer and sometime pirate ‘discovered’ the New World and around 30 years since the Lizardmen started trading with the Old World. It has been over 2000 years since the War of Vengeance as the dwarves called it or the so named War of Beards to the elves concluded, but despite the length of time that had past grudges run deep for some.

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Daemaer, young and curious and not content to while away the days learning his craft in the tower of his master traveled to the Old World to seek knowledge and power. A few months back somewhere on the coast of Bretonnia he witnessed a ship attack another using powerful magics. The battle was brief with the defending ship perhaps not prepared for such an overwhelming show of power. After the attack the victorious vessel headed to shore and a black robed man disembarked while the other ship now a drift began to break up on the rocks. The hooded figure who appeared weak of body but wreaked magical power departed the beach in an imposing black coach led by a team of four black horses, while bodies started to wash ashore…  

Slythe had travelled thousands of miles from the Southands through rain forests, across deserts and over mountains only to be attacked on the final leg of his journey to Ulthuan. Knocked unconscious at the start of the battle he awoke on a beach with only a dying Skink as company. Listening to the Skinks account of the attack he was told that the ship was assaulted by powerful magic before a black robed figure appeared and stole the relic that the Lizardman delegation carried as a peace offering to the High Elves. With vengeance on his mind but little idea on how to start an Elf approached him a short while later and explained that the he had witnessed the battle and a black robed figure departing. After some conversation Daemaer and Slythe agreed to work together…

The coach has been hard to follow, it has not stopped to rest the horses as you’d expect and it has avoided cities and large towns. Clearly some magic is involved. Daemaer and Slythe only saving grace is that the large imposing black coach is hard to miss so they’ve managed to track it by talking to other travellers on the road. The trail has led you to the Grey Mountains, the coach is at least three weeks ahead of you…

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Valgard and Reginald had been apart for some time before they met as planned in the Bretonnian city of Parravon and began discussing their plans.
Valguard of course seeks a glorious death and it would be important that there was a witness to his redemption. You are brothers, what more needs to be said? But where should such a death be sought; in the human lands where there is always some minor war to be found or the mountains where there are Orcs, Trolls and worse. The choice was simple but the brothers took their time deciding, enjoying each others company over many an ale. The mountains it is!
The shortest route was down the road to the village of Grunere which they knew had a road into the mountains proper…

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Serestre was born and raised in the rural village of Grunere in the Grey Mountain foothills she has come to the decision to leave seeking her parents and to take her gifts into the wider world. The old priestess, her mentor has told her as much as she can about the night her parents left her in the care of the priesthood of Shallya. They would not give their names, but they both had a regal bearing and the man bore a patch over his right eye. She would guess at the time they would have been in their late twenties. They both seemed scared and left quickly taking the road towards La Maisontaal a Monestary to the God Taal, God of Nature further into the mountains. Now that Serestre has decided to leave she has been on the lookout for the first suitable group travelling through…

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Daemaer and Slythe met the two dwarves, Valgard and Reginald at a coaching inn on the road to Grunere. You got to talking; amongst the pleasantries both groups were headed to Grunere, coin had become tight for all of you and there was some work to be had in the mountains at a place called La Maisontaal. Slythe seemed reluctant to make firm plans on a direction until after reaching Grunere, but has since learnt that the black coach passed through the small mountain village and on towards the Monastery, so your destination seems set. Only planning on staying one night in Grunere you were all approached by Serestre a priestess of Shallya and she has asked to travel with you explaining she has business at the Monastery and perhaps beyond. Whats not to like about having a healer with you, right?

The five of you are sat in Grunere’s only tavern; The Stones Throw, finishing off your evening meal. It is a quiet place occupied currently by yourselves, the barkeep and two farmers who are drinking and talking amongst themselves. Seretre has explained that she has been to the monastery once before with her mentor and that it is some 40 miles along a mountain trail, a journey of two to three days. A similar note previously seen offering work at the monastery is nailed to the wall of the tavern by the door which reads…

People of wit and some little intellect required
For a survey of the grey mountains of this area, in search of tombs, burial mounds and other such relics of the ancient past
The searching to be conducted by small groups, each with an allocated region, sho must study , survey, map and report upon all sites on interest they discover
Good pay with a bonus for each discovery made
Seek out Jean-louis Dintrans at the monastery of La Maisontaal.

The past few days had been a whirlwind for the young cleric Serestre. She had decided to leave the only home she had ever known to search for parents she didn't know in the hopes of finding...something...something more to hold onto. Blessed Shallya, healer of all, should have been enough for her, but she simply wasn't. No disrespect to her patron goddess, but some things just needed to be solved. 

Had anyone told her whom she would be traveling with, she would have laughed and told them to get some more rest. 

2 Dwarves. 1 Elf. And a Lizardman. 

Phew, what were the odds of that? 

Growing up in the grace of Shallya's light, she has only been accustomed to humans and the occasional half-elf. Never before had she met dwarves, full-blooded elves, and a lizardman to boot. This adventure was already turning out to be more than she could have hoped. 

She takes a sip from her cup, letting the water cascade down her throat, before speaking to her newfound companions. 

"So...Slythe...it was Slythe right? You...you mentioned the carriage. You've been after it. But...but...why exactly? I keep pondering as to why this particular carriage is of so much importance to you?"

Reginald had just ordered another round when the note caught his eye. He walked over to it, hands held behind his back as he read it. He wore broken in traveling clothes that fit him well, complete with sturdy leather boots and a cloak. He had taken off his chain mail upon making ready for their meal. He saw little need to be ready for a fight in a place such as this and eating was a sacred time for all dwarfs after all. Even still, he was never without his trusty knife and never more than a few steps from his warhammer. The road up to this point had done its best to break him, but had only seen him come out stronger... and smarter.

His long mane of orange hair hung down to his back in a thick braid. His beard hung down his chest in the same manner, but braided multiple times like a flow of lava. When the ale came, he paid with a single coin and walked the stines back to the table just as Serestre was finishing her question to Slythe.

"This round's'on me, lads." They had recently talked about heading to the monastery as a group and he would do his best to start the expedition on good terms.

When there is a lull in the conversation he add, "Post on the wall there says a man named Jean-louis Dintrans will pay coin plus bonuses for searching out and mapping places in the surrounding area. Seems like easy money if we are already going to be moving about. Skold." He holds up his stine, clinks it against those offered, and takes a hefty drink waiting for a response.

"Skold." Valgard takes a few large swigs of his drink before dropping it to the table. He wiped the ale from his long, red beard. "Honestly brother, the cold-blood looks like the only capable one outta the lot of 'em. The elf's dinkey little arrows nary'll do much aginst anythin worth my time, and I doubt this priest's any good with axe or hammer, looks like she can barely chop wood. And if any of em manage to take a glorious kill from me I'll slaughter em myself. I say we leave em, more coin for us an less trouble too. I'm not babysittin a little girl's first run in with danger."

He stares at Reginald, only acknowledging their company when he points them out in kind. Valgard brushes his overcoat off his leg, and buries two fingers in a greasy pouch on his belt. He removes a small amount of pig fat and begins to run it through his orange mohawk, straightening it and putting all the loose locks back in order.

Reginald held in a sigh. He was used to his brother's tact - or lack thereof. The newcomers though, that was another story. He easily saw the merit in an elf with a bow and a woman who, combat experience aside, was clearly in the business of patching people up. He knew the last would be the hardest to convince Valgard of since he was after all on a mission to die "gloriously." It was a mission in which Reginald would never see come to fruition if he could help it.

Of course, he never told his brother that.

"Just because one does not make armor, doesn't mean that they cannot benefit from it. We have what I assume to be a competent shooter and, unless my eyes deceive me, a healer."

He adds in dwarven: "Either way we both know that the mountains claim those who cannot hold their own.

Valgard scoffs loudly, he opens his mouth, but instead of speaking, he sighs heavily. "Ja, fine. But I'm not handing out any coin for free. Hear tha'?" He says, pointing to everyone else at the table. "Pull yer weight."

"An you, lady..." He says firmly, "don't touch me. I don't need healin, I'm tryn to die." He stares at her until she replies, making sure she understands.

Reginald sighed and gave Serestre a warm, I'm sorry about him, smile.

Serestre took another sip of her water, hiding her face partially behind the cup as the rather more gruff of the two dwarves spoke his mind. She looks with her eyes from side to side, aware of the slightly awkward situation. She eventually puts the cup down and catches the eye of Reginald, smiling at his attempts to dull the sharp end of this conversation. 

"I thank you ever so kindly for your offer of the ale, however, I must decline it. I will have you drink it in my stead." She smiles warmly at the table.

She moves her chestnut brown hair to the side and determines it best to look at Valgard when replying to his questions. 

"Well, of course, you have every right to be wary of everyone's abilities with the...exception of both you and your brother. I cannot attest to my abilities, as this is my first time away from the protection of my own monastery. It is true, you all must know, that we clerics of Shallya do not take part in the...more violent...acts of society. But we do a fair job cleaning them up."

Her dark green eyes meet those of Valgard once again. 

"However, my new companion. I can promise nothing of the sort. Those teachings also make it quite literally impossible for me to disregard those whom need help." 

She gulps down a fair bit of water after finishing her statement, positively teeming with nervousness and was it a bit of fear as well? More than likely.

Daemaer placed the tankard down on the table with a thud, after taking a long drink.

Gods it was good to be free of that stifling place.

He looked around at his traveling companions and grinned, mostly to himself.

"This is great! Isnt this great?? And this beer! So great!"

He pauses talking and takes another drink, wiping his mouth after on the sleeve of his traveling clothes, as he had seen many others in the place do.

He had been loving life ever since he left Ulthuan. A few minor adventures here. Meeting up a Lizardman...A LIZARDMAN! Amazing.

And then these other fellows. 2 Dwarfs (one rather angry at that) and the priestess. And now they were talking a job. Together! This was just like the books.

He takes another drink and grins again.

"A job! Great!"

Valgard stares at Serestre, then to Reginald, who smiles back at her. "You're just gonna let her? This is great, really fantastic. When can we leave?" He says, taking a few more deep swigs of his ale as he talks

Reginald accepts Serestre's apology for refusing the drink. It was no matter to him after all - more drink for the dwarfs! He listened to the cleric with interest, finding her apparent pacifist upbringing interesting, wondering briefly how long that wold last in a real-world, life-or-death scenario. He did not call it into question, however. Not yet anyways.

Valgard's whining the second time around made him roll his eyes. "Ye seek glorious death in battle, no? There is honor in that, aye - but only against a foe better than yerself, and only if you deal them a death blow as well. How glorious will it be to die, aching with fever from infection? Glorious death and being well-cared for in order to prepare for such an event are not mutually exclusive, Valgard." Hoping he hadn't lost him with too many big words, he simply took Serestre's ale and handed it off to his brother. That was one perk of living after all.

He then turned his attention to the elf. "Dimmer, was it? Am I sayin' that correctly? Elf names are hard on a Dwarf tongue, you know." He offered up his tankard in cheers. "The job sounds easy enough, yes. What line of work were you in before you found your way here?"

Slythe sat quietly chewing on the raw meat he had rudely demanded. Bits of blood and gristle dripped from his scaly green chin. He said little and cared little for the talk. The dwarves were full of talk, and the others annoyed him as much as they.

He preferred his typical attire of plain leather straps and fetishes, but the mountains were cold, something he did not tolerate well, and he wore animal skins (not properly treated and somewhat smelly) to ward off the chill of the grey mountains.
"Yousssss talk-sis too much." he hisses in his typical rude way.

They couldn't even begin to understand his ways. Talk, besides combat orders, was considered a waste.

"The carriage-sis contained important misssssssives for ulthuan-is elves-is. Not Slythe's buisssss-iness." he says a he rips another hunk of meat off of the bone. The raw meat was cold - not fresh, and he desired a fresh kill back in the jungle.

Serestre looks at the lizardman with a bit of discomfort on her face. She calming puts down her utensils and wipes her mouth with a cloth on the table. 

"I seem to have lost my appetite a bit..."

She shakes her head from side to side and focuses back on the more talkative of the group. 

"The job does sound....interesting to say the least. Perhaps it would be good team-building sort of work...since it would appear we are a team for the time being..."

She smiles warmly at those around the table, trying her best to not show impoliteness by retching up her food due to the ghastly nature of the lizardman.

Daemaer laughs.

"HA! I havent heard that one! And its Daemaer. I guess like Day Mare? Haha yeah!"

He takes another drink, then frowns slightly.

"Study mostly. Gods awful studying. Night and day. There were definitely some good points. I learnt a few....tricks shall we say...along the way. But it was stifling. And boring. Gods it was boring. Channel this. Focus here. Remember that..."

He shivers and takes another drink, and then whispers under his breath.
"...awful...."

Reginald listened carefully, then nodded when it dawned on him. "Day-Mare. Daymaer. Daemar. Right, I got it. So, You deal in magic then?" It was as much a question as it wasn't.

A thud is heard against the door of the tavern immediately followed by a fumbling of the door knob. The door is then thrown open and a panicked and bloodied man lurches through the doorway. His clothing is torn in places, he clearly has a bloody knee and a cut across his temple, his face red and he seems out of breathe "Hu-elp" he splutters as he takes a step towards your table. His eyes then lock with Slythe and a look of horror crosses his face "What th..." is all he manages to get out as his eyes roll into the back of his head and he collapses to the floor.

Reginald finishes chewing a piece of bread and cheese waiting for Daemaer's response when the commotion from the front of the tavern draws his attention. Apparently small talk would have to wait. He finishes the rest of his ale as the man collapses, not immediately moving to do anything other than look to the side to see how the cleric would respond. nonchalantly, he reaches into his traveling pack and begins pulling out his chain mail.

He grumbles absently about the annoyance of having a nice dinner interrupted.

At the first interruption, Valgard's hand finds his axe's haft almost instantly. When the doors swung wide, he relaxed his grip, this man was not in fighting shape. Valgard looked over his shoulder to his brother, "Oi Reggie, maybe a good death waits outside aye?" He said, hefting the axe up over his shoulder with one hand and slogging the rest of his ale with the other. He tosses the empty tankard back onto the table and promptly makes his way to check the tavern entrance.

Daemaer shrugs, and gives the dwarf a wink.

"I know a few spells to get me out of trouble...or into it ha!"

He takes another drink as the door bursts open and the wounded man stumbles in.
He sees the angry dwarf quickly take up his and move to the door.
"Right!", he stands, finishing the rest of the tankard and slamming it down.
"I have ALWAYS wanted to do that!"
With a grin he follows the angry dwarf.

Murcurie wrote:

Valgard looked over his shoulder to his brother, "Oi Reggie, maybe a good death waits outside aye?".

Reginald laughed. I highly doubt that. If whatever hurt this one weak man couldn’t even finish the job, he didn’t expect it to do much more than annoy Valgard the Troll Slayer.

When his chain mail is put into place, he hurries after his brother.

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Slythe hardly noticed the bleeding man as he ripped another piece of meat into his mouth, bothering little with forks and knives.

As the group begins to head out side, he takes a last bite and stands to follow, grabbing his weapon with blood crusted hands. He acted slowly and was clearly in no hurry to see what the commotion was.

He stood just shorted that an average lizardman, but he was built like a tank with thick slabs of clod blooded muscle to drive a weapon ever deeper.

With sounds and hisses, he exits the tavern, once again dreading the cold more than anything else.

Serestre immediately falls to the man's aid, taking steps to check exactly what was wrong with him. She gives it the once over, trying to discern this information as quickly as possible. She says a small prayer to Shallya for her guidance and blessing in this time of need, before producing her first aid kit to help his knee and the cut on his hand. 

She smiles down at him warmly. 

"Be calm, my child. Shallya's light now blesses you. And I am sure you are out of harm's way with my new companions taking charge..."

The night is clear and the half moon bathes Grunere is its pale glow so you have a good view up both sides of the road which the tavern sits roughly in the middle of. The road is quiet with the only sign of life a black cat that darts between two buildings and the glow of lights on in a smattering of the buildings that flank the road.

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The unconscious man groans quietly as Serestre's skilled eyes and hands check over his injuries. Most look superficial, the cuts and grazes on his knees and hands from perhaps a fall and likely more than once. His most serious injury was the gash across his temple, which was probably caused by some kind of blade by Serestre's reckoning and one none to clean by the redness around the cut. His heart hammers in his chest and his skin is slick with sweat from some kind of exertion?  

As you tend his wounds the barkeep comes up behind you and peers over your shoulder casting a shadow over the prostrate form "Ere' I've seen him before. Reckon he's a merchant who passed through here on his way to La Maisontaal, musta been a four or five days ago now."

Outside, Valgard scans the field, his axe at the ready. After a few tense moments, he lowers his axe. "So tha's it then? Bleedin bastard decided he'd like to grab a tankard for the road?" He turns around, brushing past anyone in the way as he moved back inside. "Oi! Wake up! Ya better not be dyin, you haven't even had a drink yet!" He says as he moves next to the cleric. He lets the axe slide through his palms, smashing into the floorboards loudly.

Serestre looks up to the barkeep, nodding her head in appreciation. 

"I thank you kindly Norbert for the information regarding this man..."

She looks back to him, continuing to tend to his wounds, before the dwarf comes in loud and seemingly annoyed. She flinches as the axe hits the floorboards. 

"He should be resting, friend. Norbert, the barkeep, has just mentioned that he recognizes him as a merchant who went on towards La Maisontaal a few days prior. Perhaps, that is all we need to know."

“Well then,” starts Reginald as he comes back in from the cold, gently laying his warhammer on the table quite in juxtaposition to his brother. He takes a sip of ale and mulled over events in his mind.

“If he came from the monastery then our trip just got more interesting. It also tells me that he escaped the threat, or whatever it was allowed him to escape, either way there’s no one needing killing outside. Even still, we should sleep in shifts tonight. Best to let the injured rest up. Madame,” he says indicating the bar maid, “if there’s a local watch you should let them know there may be trouble brewing at the monastery. And if there’s a room that gives us the best view up and down the road, it would be smart for us to use it tonight.”

He waits for the others to weigh in. Waiting until the morning gave them plenty of benefits, not least of which was having a lucid witness to press for intelligence.

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Slythe simply grunts in irritation. He didnt care about the man, the monastery or any of it.

"If you-sis thinksssss sssshifts are the best-isssst" he hisses still covered in the blood of the evening meal.

The barkeep butts in while the serving girl continues cleaning up behind the bar. "There's no watch in Grunere, master dwarf" he responds to Reginald "the place is to small and we see little excitement to warrant one. Meself and a few others train once a month for the militia if you think we should be arming ourselves?"

He looks over his shoulder at the serving girl "Dianna, go prepared the room at the front for our quests." The girl nods "Yes, father" and leaves through a door.

"Depends - how often does something like this occur? If the answer is 'not very often' then I think that being prepared for the worst case scenario of having to fight might not be the worst idea. I don't think it is cause to panic yet, but being prepared never hurt anyone. Best to let the other lads you train with know the situation at the very least." He gives the barkeep a nod as he finished. Whether or not he followed Reginald's advice was his own business.

Daemaer had stepped outside and lingered a little longer.

After a minute or so looking around he had gone back inside and joined the rest.

Slythe grunts before harshly scolding the barkeep.

"You ssssshould always be armed-sssss at all timsisss. Even you hatchlingssss should be inssstructed."

The barkeep looks at Slythe in confusion for a moment "Hatchlings..." and then you see the light come on as he looks the Saurus up and down "...err right, well as I said we see little action here, but if you think it wise I'll go wake Pierre and René."

Taking the shield and shortsword down from their mountings from behind the bar he heads for the door before turning back to you before he leaves "Dianna will have your rooms sorted shortly, I'll be back as soon as I've mustered the lads."

Daemaer approached the downed man and the priestess.

"Priestess, how fare his wounds? If you need any help, i have some small healing magic..."

Leaving her with that information he returns to the table and sits down, taking a smaller sip.

"Well there goes the evening...."

Reginald gives the barkeep his thanks and states matter-of-factly, "I'll take first watch." With that, he big everyone a good night and headed upstairs.

Serestre looks up to the elf and smiles warmly at him. 

"I think his wounds are mostly superficial at best, my good elf. I wouldn't want you to have to go to any trouble, but I appreciate the offer all the same."

Serestre helps the man to his room before meeting back with the others. 

"I can take the second watch, Reginald." 

It is a quiet and perhaps a dull night for those on watch looking out through the 1st floor window of your rooms. The moon moves across the sky. Two men who you assume to be Pierre and Rene patrol Grunere and periodically come in and out of view as they follow their route. The black cat chases a mouse across the street…

For those on last watch morning can’t come too soon, with the daylight and the sounds of the waking tavern soon bringing those sleeping awake. Gathering for breakfast in the main bar you are greeted by the smell of bacon cooking from an adjoining room and Dianna smiles politely at you all with her eyes lingering on Daemaer “Good morning.” She greets you “The priestess came by earlier to say the wounded gentleman is awake if you want to speak to him. I’ll be back in a moment with your breakfast.”

Reginald awoke and got ready much the same as every morning. The smell of breakfast rose him up from the bed like a zombie. He moved to the common area with a yawn, nodding to those he was familiar with. "I'd love a coffee if you have it."

He waited patiently for breakfast to come, figuring that someone else could lead the questioning of the man. He would definitely attend when it happened, but he was happy to sit on the side lines for it.

Valgard awoke with a grumble, murmuring about losing sleep during his watch for nothing to happen. He wiped the drool off his rolled up overcoat and slipped it on as he made his way downstairs. When Reggie asks for coffee, Valgard just grunts in agreement and nods at the barkeep. "Where's the buffoon?" He said to anyone present while he picked at the grit under his nails.

The barkeep wanders in with a plate piled high with bacon, fried eggs and bread. “Yeah, theres coffee and porridage heating by the fire.” He nods towards the fireplace in the common room “help yer self’s.” Placing the food on your table he stands with you for a moment. “Pierre and Rene didn’t see nor hear any trouble during the night, so I guess we’re safe for now. As for that wounded chap, the priestess stepped out a short while ago so perhaps he'll be here soon.”

Reginald excuses himself for not seeing the coffee sooner and moves to fill himself and his gruff brother a mug of the steaming elixir. Coffee was a luxury back home, only brought in sparingly by merchants from abroad. However, in his travels he had found that most land-dwelling races truly loved the beverage and his former party had brewed it as often as they could. As such he had acquired quite a taste for it. He savored it as he began in on the breakfast the barkeep had just laid down.

"Many thanks, friend. Good to hear that no one else had to be hurt last night. Supposin' after breakfast we can hear what stories he has to tell. Or, if he is up for it, he can come share a meal with us and tell them." He dug into a heaping sandwich of fried eggs and bacon, eager to hear what the others had to say.

Daemaer beamed a smile at the girl.

"And good morning to you!"

He watched her and muttered under his breath, "...this is great..."

He had done his shift and with the same as the others, had noticed nothing untoward during the night, and had woken feeling refreshed.

Moving to join the others for breakfast, he tucked in.

"Oh this is so good. Pity about the circumstances ha!"

Serestre comes in, with the man in tow, bandages on his head to help keep the cut clean. He looked slightly better than the last time everyone had seen him, but that was mostly due to not having to outrun....whatever it was he was running from anymore. 

"Well, good morning to you all. Our friend here seems to be feeling much better...hopefully we can get to the bottom of this..."

Her stomach grumbles a bit as she takes in the sight of food. 

"I do suppose we should all eat as well, won't you join us friend?" She asks the man beside her.

Slythe made noise that were a cross between a grunt, a sigh, and a hiss. He ignored the meal of wheat gruel and coffee. Non-protien based sustenance disagreed with him, and water was all he required, not to mention his cold blooded nature meant he didnt need to eat as often to maintain a proper temperature.

What his differing physiology did do was keep him sluggish in the cold weather. It would take him longer to wake without an adrenaline boost of some sort. He huddled under his smelly skins for warmth.

"Thisssis cold is amocualli-sssss"

Valgard breathed a sigh of relief as his brother returned to the table with a large mug of black coffee. He smiled, "Thank you kindly." He says to his brother, then gives the food a look over. He picked up one of the fried eggs and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, following it with a few pieces of bacon on a piece of bread. "This is all really good, thank you." He says to the barkeep with a nod.

When the priestess returned with the man from the night before, Valgard stares as she speaks to him, then laughs. "Of course he'll eat! Sit down, tell me why ye'r runnin around at night all bloodied, and passed out on this nice man's floor." His original gentle voice was quickly replaced with a firm tone, as he was pointing to a seat at the table.

The man bobs his head at Valgard and takes a seat, he looks at those around the table nervously for a moment before grabbing some food and stuffing it into his mouth. "The names Norbert" he tells you between mouthfuls "Its quite straightforward really, myself and my two guards were travelling back from the Monastery, we were perhaps a half a day out from Grunere when it started to get dark so we sought shelter in one of the way stations dotted along the mountain path.” His voice starts to trail off a little as he relives his ordeal, he rubs his bandaged head and winces  “Err… right, so the place looks abandoned, Simone goes to check it out, pulls the door open, screams and falls, her hands to her bloodied throat…” he places what food remains in his hands on the table, his face a little pale “she, wa-was dead. Then swarms of ratmen came pouring out of the building… John and I ran for it, I managed to get away, kept running. John fell I think, the ratmen got him… h-hi-his screams…” he sobs a little into his hands before wiping the snot and tears on his sleeves and looks back up t you all “…that’s it, h-hu-here I am.”

Slythe snarls an answer for translation, "Evil"

As the man tells his story, Slythe starts to become more animated as he cold blood began to warp slightly.

"Isssss there a hissssstory of the ratkin in thisssis mountains?"

Serestre puts a calming hand over Norbert's own, giving him the comfort needed in this difficult time. 

"I am truly sorry for your experiences. These vile ratmen seem to have waited in ambush for travelers just like yourselves....or perhaps they may have been hiding something. In any case, it is a tragedy what has happened to you." 

She squeezes his hand, hoping he feels some comfort and ease from his internal strife.

Valgard shakes his head "By Grimnir's lesser beard, grow some hair ya big baby. We'll handle the ratmen if we see em, if we can get some coin for it I'd even be willin to look fer em. Real shame you had yer friends die. If it bugs you so much, I'd say yer probly not wanting to go into the adventuring business. But, if you want to come with, just say the word. Vengeance is a strong blade, trust me." Valgard removed the 'knife' he kept on his belt, and set it on the table, to show he was serious. He shoves some more bacon in his mouth, washing it down with the rest of his coffee as he let the air settle.